


I love you, I eat you!

by red_savage



Category: Marvel Zombies - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_savage/pseuds/red_savage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony confesses his love to Steve before being turned into a zombie. Steve can't bring himself to kill him and so he keeps him.  A strange macabre romantic relationship between a human and a zombie begins.  Steve struggles with the moral implications of keeping a zombie Tony and having a 'relationship' with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you, I eat you!

**Author's Note:**

> Captain America is called Colonel America in the Marvel Zombies universe and he served a short term as President of the United States, in other respects is similar to 616. The nature of the prompt and the setting have put the characters out beyond their normal morality envelope. Story contains undertones of abilism and other –isms, that may be objectionable, thus the 'explict' rating.  
> Word Count: 5,636  
> Beta: penumbren

\---

The wailing and screeching echoed in the concrete bunker. It was Tony’s voice pleading with him, begging Steve to take action and do something, because his friend was suffering. It was driving him mad being able to do absolutely nothing.

_Steve, if you’re not going to let me out of here, you need to feed me. I’m so hungry. It hurts! Please, please, please …_

Tony’s voice cried out for relief and it pained Steve not to be able to take the action his friend needed. Tony wandered aimlessly in circles in his cell, beating his hands against the rough cinder blocks and howling for Steve to bring him something to eat.

_Please, help me Steve. You have to help me. It hurts. I need to eat something. I want something now. If you really cared about me, you’d bring me something. It’s better than raw tuna on rice or a bleeding porter house steak, Steve. My mouth is watering and there’s nothing to eat down here! Do you know what it’s like to starve? I’m starving here. It’s killing me, Steve!_

Tony’s tanned olive skin was now grey and pale showing off his gaunt frame. His muscles became more noticeable as what little body fat he had had gone away. His hair stuck out in strange directions because he kept pulling at it while he wailed. He was like Steve now in a lot of ways. Tony didn’t seem to tire, his unusual strength born out of his rage at being deprived.

_Colonel, I need something now. The hunger is killing me. I feel like I’m burning up inside. I’m empty. I need something to eat. NOW! Get up off of your stars and stripes and go find me something to eat, you self-righteous prick. You’re an asshole for keeping me like this. This place is terrible. You’re terrible. How can you sleep when I’m down here dying? It’s a good thing you didn’t run for election, because I wouldn’t vote for a douche bag like you, who locks people up for no fucking good reason. All you politicians are nothing more than corrupt pigs eating at the public trough. Oink, OINK, motherfucker!_

The hunger however didn't diminish Tony’s intelligence or the functionality of his armor. The armor Steve could handle with the override codes. Going toe to toe with Tony in a game of wits was tougher. Day in and day out, Tony still managed to push his buttons.

_Steve? Steve are you there? I’m sorry, I called you all those names. I’m hungry. And I’d love for you to bring me a morsel to nibble upon. Can you hear me? I love you. I’m so very, very hungry. I was hoping you could help your loved one. That’s why I’m here, right? Because you’re trying to protect me and you love me. If you really loved me you’d find me something to eat. I’m so hungry. I hurt. I ache. The anguish is unbearable! It hurts so bad, Steve. Your lover is in pain or does that mean anything to you?! I feel like there’s a knife in my gut and you’re twisting it. Steve, make it stop! Make it stop!_

\---

"If you're listening to this, then you didn't follow my wishes Steve." The playback of Tony Stark's voice echoed in the empty storeroom, hissing and crackling making it sound as if was made years ago instead of hours. "The very worst is upon us and yet you've failed to act. If you really care about me, about the people we're supposed to protect, then Colonel America will do the right thing and finish this."

Steve sighed and pressed the stop button. He'd listened to the impassioned plea that he'd recovered from Tony's armor several times already and each time he felt a pang of pity for Tony. What Tony was asking him to do was unthinkable, yet without thinking he'd taken down a couple of regular zombies who had succumbed to the plague in the course of protecting a few small groups of civilians. Thanks to Colonel America's strategic withdrawal, he'd managed to avoid being infected. The rest of the Avengers weren't so lucky. Most of them were now roaming the streets, going from house to house in search of more humans to devour. Their attempts at quenching the hunger which drove them to kill were rapidly reducing the human population of North America. Other population centers in Europe and Asia were reporting massive losses as the super-powered zombies fed upon a nonpowered, vulnerable population.

New York City was a lifeless husk of its former self. Abandoned cars lined the streets, some of them flipped over or torn apart as if a tempest had stormed through the streets. Empty shops lay as barren as their missing glass storefronts. Trash blew freely about where children once ran and played. From New York to Washington, D.C. and down to Atlanta and Miami the destruction spread and the zombiefied Avengers fed like locusts upon the billions of inhabitants. It was only a matter of time -- months, years, who really knew? -- before nobody would be left.

If only Tony hadn’t said those final words before plunging into the fray to try to stop Sentry. _Steve, this looks like it may be it. Whatever happens, don’t let me become one of those things. I know this is crappy timing to say this, but I love you. And I don’t mean it in the platonic kind of way one might say 'Merry Christmas.' Assuming we survive this, what say you and me get married by the Christmas tree in Times Square next year?_

Steve scratched at his scalp as he pulled back his cowl. Dammit all to hell, Tony would have to go all soft and mushy right before getting turned into one of those ravaging beasts.

Taking a chance, Steve confronted Tony after he'd gorged on the better part of some refugees who had taken shelter in one of Atlantic City’s hotels.

"So tell me, Tony. How does it feel?" Steve called out from his hiding place. "You've killed thousands of innocents and ..."

The visor on Tony's helmet rose, revealing white lifeless eyes. "There are moments when I feel terrible, if it's any consolation to you, but you'd understand if you were standing where I am, Steve. The hunger only abates for a while. The more you fight it the more out of control you are when you feed."

"Sounds like a serious personal problem. Do you want help?"

"The irony is that my alcoholism is cured and I don’t have to worry about kicking the bucket from a heart attack. You shouldn't have come here Steve. Why are you here? Finally decided to man up and do the right thing? I’m ready to do this when you are."

"I'm here to help you, Tony. I’ve put a research team together. We can study this. Find a cure."

"So you and I can live happily ever after with the cockroaches? Ah, seeing you here alive and well really lifts my spirits--and appetite. Tell you what, there's a small group of people still huddled in the hotel's basement. I'm going to walk down there for a little snack and as I'm doing that you can spring out of the shadows and decapitate me. Think you can handle that, Colonel?"

"Why don't you follow me instead, and I can lead you to a huge cache of food?"

"How huge?"

"It'll be worth your time."

"Hmmmm. Ok. If it's very far away, let me bite you now. It'll protect you from being eaten."

"Thanks, but no. Follow me."

\---

The tiny cinderblock cell would have been no problem for him if he had his armor. The door was no more than a heavy sewer grate imbedded twelve feet above in the ceiling. There was no bunk for him as he no longer slept. There was no chair or table, because he fed now like beast. Now he was stuck inside Steve’s trap with only a grimy pair of jeans and a hideous ragged black and red plaid flannel shirt which he’d left on the floor to show his defiance. So much for his plan of trying to find Steve and either turn him over to their side or get quickly done in; either way he would have counted it as a win.

Now Steve was keeping him here like some kind of zoo animal -- a specimen to be studied to find a fabled cure for his “condition”. The meals were terrible, too few and too infrequent. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. He wanted out so he could sate the gnawing fire that ate at the core of his being. Only the “talks” which he and Steve engaged in kept him halfway coherent so he could plan.

The tell-tale steps echoing into his cell told him that Steve was coming to visit him again and would hopefully bring him more than a small morsel of chicken or a stray house pet. As Steve’s shadow fell across the grate, Tony sniffed the air. It didn’t smell of fowl or other animal. The sweet smell of human flesh was all that reached his nose, which meant Steve had just come to talk. There would be no food this time.

Seconds dragged on into minutes as Steve hovered near the grate. Usually it was Steve who initiated the conversations. Tony forced out a cough and called out, “Steve, are you there?”

“I’m here, Tony.”

“Well, good. I was getting, you know …”

“Hungry?”

“Um, no. I was hoping you’d stop by for a visit.”

“You were?”

“Yes! You see I haven’t been myself lately and I want to apologize.” With a grand sweep of his hand Tony grabbed the shirt off the floor and waved it at the ceiling. “I should have thanked you for these wonderful clothes. I’m sorry I didn’t try them on earlier. See here, the fit of the shirt is good.”

“I see.” Steve stared down at him with a mixture of fascination and dread. He watched Steve take a dry swallow to steel himself before continuing to say whatever it was he wanted to say. “Tony, the scientists need more samples. Would you be willing to cooperate this time?”

Samples. Tony snarled at the word. The last time they had collected his saliva and blood, they fed him a meal of a two dogs, a cat and almost two dozen guinea pigs. Steve had then held him securely against one of the walls while the samples were taken. The needle punctures hadn’t healed and his left arm still had scabby, oozing wounds. It didn’t hurt, but it looked damned bad. More holes were the last thing he needed. “I’m willing to give you all the spit you want, but I’ll be damned if you let them put any more holes in me. I don’t heal like I used to and any more will ruin my good looks.”

“Listen to me, Tony. All I can say is that I’m sorry about your arm. I’ve talked with the team and they’ve suggested an insertion of an IV-like device. We’ve rigged part of your armor so that you can wear it. It’ll be able to give us the samples we need without any more damage to you. It’s the best offer I can make.”

Steve didn’t have to say “take it or leave it” -- the alternative was clear. They didn’t have to feed him. They could just leave him down here starving in this cold room and Steve could manhandle him each time they wanted more samples, but Tony was used to making deals and if he could get part of his armor back, however small, it was a stepping stone to freedom and more food.

“Alright, I’ll try it. How do you want to do this?” He’d barely gotten the question out when a body fell through the hole and hit the concrete not two feet from him with a sickening thud. He couldn’t help but reflexively take a step or two back. It was a male maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He had reddish-brown hair that clashed with the bright neon green prison fatigues covering his body.

Tony took a step to reach down, kneel, and turn the body over to inspect it. The man was clean shaven and without thinking Tony felt around the bruises on the man’s neck for a pulse. It was faint, but he was still alive and breathing, which meant a fresh meal was sitting nearly in his lap. Only the tinge of guilt and doubt made him look up through the hole in the ceiling. Steve stood poised to jump down into the cell.

Checking his urge to devour the prisoner, Tony asked suspiciously, “Is this another test or another trick? You’re not really going to let me eat him.”

“Not a test or a trick. Consider it a reward for good behavior. I’m here so I can fit you with the device quickly after you finish.”

“Back off Steve -- I don’t want you to see this. I can call for you when I’m done. For now, just back away for your own good. There’s no reason for you to see this.”

Steve shook his head before saying, “Thought you might feel that way.” With a quick move Steve grabbed at something and then dropped into the cell as easily as cat. The red and gold metal of the armor’s forearm covering gleamed in his left hand. “If we’re going to do this, then I want to see. I picked him first, Tony, because he’s a rapist and a killer. He has a death sentence. Now, hurry up and do what you have to do before he wakes up.”

\---

Steve had been sitting for hours pondering the choice he had to make, but if he thought back over all that had happened -- he'd made his choice when he'd confronted Tony in Atlantic City. There appeared to be no sign so far for a cure for Tony's affliction. He hadn't honored Tony's last request because it felt wrong to kill off his best friend simply because he was suffering from an unknown infection. And in all the days in between then and now, he and Tony had gotten to know each other in ways that went beyond mere friendship. Tony's confession had opened a door which Steve hadn't thought would ever exist for them. The War had taught him that you don't turn down your chances at a good thing no matter how small or impossible they may be. Steve had latched onto that glimmer of hope like a piece of driftwood in the ocean of chaos which their world had become and hung onto it for dear life.

He didn't know what to call Tony's condition. Some of the survivors called them Zombies, others called them Walkers, but whatever they were it was clear that they all needed living flesh. The physical changes to the eyes were the most disturbing. Where once black pupils encircled by crystal blue irises rested, now was white and lifeless. The expressions on their faces didn't look quite the same. It made it more difficult for him to read Tony's moods; however the hunger always pained Tony and there was simply no hiding it. 

In the long periods between meals, he and Tony had good conversations once they got past the hunger, but it was difficult. Tony had caught on that thinking about something else, even just old mission analyses, helped drive down the madness. Talking helped the hours pass, but eventually Steve needed sleep and he had to leave because he couldn't ever let his guard down around Tony.

\---

The dim light of the lantern hid the gore and bones that lined Tony’s cell in shadows. Steve had scrounged up a few pillows, a twin-sized mattress and box spring set along with a few linens that didn’t match but were the correct size for the bed. Tony laid face down with his armor’s helmet on and visor down without complaint while Steve covered their shirtless bodies with the blankets.

That became their routine after Tony ate. They cuddled and spooned together until Tony became restless. Sometimes Steve would stay and attempt to reason with him, other times Steve would make his escape in a quick leap through the opening in the ceiling. Until then Tony would feel Steve’s warmth and the thump, thump rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat. It was peaceful and beautiful.

“Why do you get so quiet when we’re like this?” Steve asked.

“Hmm? Oh, just enjoying the quiet in my head. You know I used to be thinking about my company, its stock price, how on earth will we make it to the next quarter, when will I ever have time to put the work in on my armor. Ideas and thoughts going through my head like a herd of stampeding beasts all the time. And now after a big meal, I don’t so much.”

“So food is better than sex for you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t tried having sex, since, um, the change.”

“Oh. Not even masturbation?”

“I haven’t tried. I’ve been too busy thinking about my next meal, not worrying if my junk still works or if the projected stock price will make for the next quarter.”

“Really, you haven’t thought at all about your armor or company?”

“My armor, yes. I don’t know where you managed to scrounge up this ancient helmet. It’s first generation junk out of a museum. But I digress; you learn to stop worrying about Wall Street, your company, and its stock price when you’ve gone out of your way to eat your board of directors. It was a most satisfying feeling. If anyone deserved to die, it would be them. After them I went after various brokers and fund managers who had screwed me over the years and cost me millions. After them I went after my disgruntled employees.”

“My God, you ate your employees?”

“Just the bad ones, mostly …” He ate the good, bad and all manner in between. The images were still clear in his mind. Rhodey was the only other person who had immediate access to the armor. He was a potential threat which had to be neutralized. Tony recalled ambushing his test pilot outside his apartment immediately following his transformation. There was no guilt there because it was Rhodey’s choice to make and he’d made it like a man. 

He tried to offer Pepper the same choice, but she had tried to trap him and herself under the harbor in one of the Stark Lab’s facilities. The electrified current running through the seawater had been a poor decision on her part. His armor had protected him, while she expired. He couldn’t save her and her death wasn’t pretty – the convulsions, popping flesh and the screaming. He could still hear her screaming in that far corner of his mind, where he’d push all of his guilt with the remaining scraps of his moral convictions. His parents, especially his father, would not be proud of their son now.

The words tumbled out of Tony’s mouth. “I still can’t believe I ate, Jarvis. I want a priest, Steve.”

“Forget it. I’m not going to let you eat a person of the cloth.”

“I don’t want one to eat. I realized that I need to make my confession, and then you can put me out of my misery. Then you can get on to the business of taking out the others.”

“I’m not killing you and that’s final. It’s only been a few weeks, Tony. Research results take time -- lots of time. You need to be patient.”

“Feels like months, Steve. And you know I’m not a patient man.”

“I know. I’m sorry to keep you like this, but it’s for your own good, Tony.”

“So you say. You know the time would pass quicker if I had something to do – like work on my armor.”

“I’m not giving you your armor back. I’m not stupid and I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“You're in bed half-naked in an intimate position with another man who also happens to eat human flesh and is one of the living dead. How intelligent does that sound?”

“Until you realize that I have you where I can pin you faster than you can think about moving. So actually there’s no threat because you’ve got the helmet on which covers those nasty gnashing teeth. I’m not worried.”

“You’re stubborn and arrogant. I love that about you. How about a kiss?”

“Right, let me go get that armor. Be right back with you in two shakes.” Steve lightly swatted Tony’s helmet before going back to rubbing his arm.

“So that’s a ‘no’ then.”

\---

Tony might have been stripped of the majority of his armor, but that didn't make him defenseless. He was still dangerous. If Steve had chosen to sleep in his presence, at best Tony would simply bite him or try to make an escape. The very worst Steve didn't like to think about. He'd seen Tony feed before Atlantic City and he'd watched him do it while he was in the holding cell. It still chilled his blood as he could hear bone snapping and fleshing tearing when he thought about it. The images were still clear in his mind. The smell of spilled blood never seemed to leave his nostrils, now.

He’d made a point of watching Tony feed. In the hereafter Steve knew he’d have to answer for a lot of things and his decision to feed Tony was going to be near the top of the list. It was only fair that he saw the consequences of his choices. Watching Tony efficiently strip the muscles and tissue off his victims each time was horrifying. Blood would spray the walls, Steve’s boots, and Tony’s clothes. The air would take on an odor of its own as body fluids were suddenly and violently exposed to the air as Tony’s fist pulled out intestines in a gooey red mass. He would pull out their hearts and livers only to sink his teeth quickly into the soft meat to gobble it down before it became stale and cold.

Arms and legs were torn asunder as he cracked the bones against the hard floor to get at the marrow inside. The eyes and tongue were plucked out before the skull was fractured to get at the brain inside. Lungs and the rest of the organs were devoured in turn depending on how hungry he was. Often there was simply a bloody scalp and some bone fragments marking the spot where a human had once been. Tony would then lick his fingers and happily declare that it was his best meal ever.

Really was he any better than Tony, now? Steve was choosing who lived and who died. First were stray animals that had wondered out into the streets. A dog here, a cat there – who would miss them? Their owners were either dead or long gone and hadn't bothered to take their charges with them to safety. Those deaths were easy to rationalize. After that Steve had begun scouring the hospitals that had patients with terminal conditions – the sacrifice of those lives wasn’t easy, but necessary. Right or wrong, he was doing his best to care for Tony.

What could he do? The numbers of people with who had justifiable reasons for not existing were running thin. Convicted criminals with life or death sentences were out on the streets and hence indistinguishable from the rest of the survivors or had already met their fate at Tony’s hands. He wasn’t going to start killing people for the sake of Tony’s next meal. They couldn’t keep going like they were, with Tony locked away suffering from hunger while the rest of the team roamed like wolves unchecked among the sheep, their hunger easily appeased with the unwilling flesh of the living.

Steve cared about Tony’s well being. His hope had been that the research team would find a cure. The determination that the virus wasn’t airborne and couldn’t naturally exist in nature was their biggest breakthrough. It appeared to be purposefully engineered, but for what ends the scientists could only speculate.

What kind of entity would want to turn people into cannibalistic undead monsters? What kind of good would come of that? Tony needed a cure, because Steve was running out of options.

\---

Lying in bed next to Tony, his cold skin slowly warming against him, still felt surreal. Technically, Tony was dead -- his EKG and EEG were flat lines. Yet Tony still walked, talked, ate, and joked. Tony’s personality hadn’t changed. When he was fed he was still as rational and as creative as Steve remembered.

Steve ran his hand along Tony’s shoulder blade, wiping away the red specks that threatened to dry in place. Tony was always a mess after a meal. Steve couldn’t afford to take him up to the showers, so he’d improvised a sponge bath system to help deal with the stench. Cologne, air freshener and fabric refresher only went so far. Steve had given up on washing the sheets and blankets; instead, he threw them out and replaced them each week. At the end of the month he’d thrown out the bed itself and replaced it with a new one. This time he left the plastic around the mattress in place.

Steve rubbed his fingers together and watched the blood dry on his hand. If he were honest with himself, there was a lot of innocent blood on his hands. Sure he protected the scientists and other survivors who were in the bunker, but he’d made some choices that he still had a hard time justifying to himself even though he had the best intentions. Love was supposed to be pure and incorruptible.

And with love there was supposed to be trust, the ability to believe what your partner said and rely on them to be there for you when you needed them. He still wasn’t sure if Tony would bite him or not, so he made Tony wear the helmet each time they shared those brief moments of Tony’s clarity.

He sighed. The person that Tony had just eaten was the last. Anyone else he found in a hospital was likely to be already dead or a zombie. The prisons were empty. There were other groups of survivors out there, but Steve wasn’t willing to send innocent humans to their death. Tony would just have to get by until a solution could be found. Perhaps the scientists could clone Tony something to eat?

Tony said, “A penny for your thoughts, Colonel.”

“Thinking about the future.” Steve sighed again and ran his hand over Tony’s clammy back. “When we started this, you promised you wouldn’t try to bite me.”

“I haven’t tried to bite you and believe me there have been plenty of chances. I haven’t tried and I wouldn't even if you asked for it, Steve. It’s a curse.”

“Okay. Take off the helmet and give me a kiss.”

“Really? You want me to kiss you? Why now? Is this some kind of test, Steve?”

“If you want to look at it that way, you can.”

Tony flipped up the visor and rolled over. “How do you look at it? I’ve wanted to do that since day one and now all of a sudden you want a kiss?”

“This hasn’t been easy for me. Moments like this are the only things that keep me going and I think it’s as good a time as any. I should have trusted you sooner and had more faith in you, but it’s been hard. We’ve gotten this far and I’d like to kiss and hug, like a normal couple, for as long as you’ll let me.”

“Sure thing,” Tony said as he reached to undo the catches on his helmet. His dark hair spilled out, matted with blood on one side where he’d leaned in to tear his victim’s throat open. “Thought you’d never ask, Sweet Cheeks. I promise you aren’t going to regret this.”

Steve rolled onto his back and watched Tony straddle his chest. Whatever happened after this Steve wasn’t going to regret it. He’d get what he deserved. If Tony bit him, well, he’d be damned on earth with Tony. If Tony didn’t stop with one bite, Steve would wait for Tony in Hell. But maybe -- just maybe -- he’d get that one kiss that would give him the strength so he could see this through for the both of them. That would be a win. 

Tony leaned in and rested his forehead against Steve’s. They’d never been this close before -- eye to eye and nose to nose. Tony pursed his lips and paused. “Funny, you don’t look like you want a kiss.”

Steve’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. He could smell blood and death on Tony – it was bad, the musty metallic scent. The potential danger made his heart race. “I do," he said as he reached up to touch the rough hair on Tony’s jaw.

“Let me show you how to relax then, there’s no need to rush.” Tony leaned down and whispered into his right ear. “No matter what you may feel, I promise you I’m not going to break the skin.” Tony patted his chest in a reassuring manner. “Steve, just close your eyes, relax and let it happen.”

Before he could nod or make a sound, Tony had begun tracing his ear with his tongue on one side and with his finger on the other. The sensation was hardly relaxing; -- it was a jolt of sensation that rocked through his body and straight to his groin. Tony was going to slowly take him apart with need. He’d lose what little control he had over the situation. That wasn’t part of the plan; doing much more than kissing or nuzzling and Steve would lose what little was left of his resolve, supposing he didn’t succumb to Tony’s infection or appetite. He didn’t want to become a murderer, but if Tony kept on doing what he was doing – well; they weren’t going to go any further down that road.

He grabbed the back of Tony’s hair fiercely and twisted Tony's face towards his. “I said I wanted a kiss. Now kiss me, dammit!” Tony’s soulless eyes squinted with amusement as Steve dragged him closer. “We don’t have all night. Now wipe that ridiculous smirk off your face and kiss me.”

At that Tony only raised an eyebrow before closing the distance between them. There was no sensation of shared breath as Tony’s cool lips contacted with his. He could feel the prickle of Tony’s beard. It made him shiver, being this close with one of _them_. Yet, Tony had promised that he wouldn’t wound him. This was the ultimate risk and he was taking it, because he had everything to gain or lose. Steve Rogers was a winner – because meager existence had never been good enough for him.

\---

Steve and Tony sat on the bench in Central Park and watched the sun slide behind the buildings and tree line. The day had been beautiful. The warm salty breeze blowing in off the harbor had been pleasant. They had walked the streets of the City that was their home arm in arm as couples do. The planned picnic in the park had gone pretty much as expected. Steve had found some takeout and he and Tony had shared the meal together in the park, watched the grass grow and the sun set.

The other Avengers were out and about elsewhere. Tomorrow he and Tony would have to find them and get them organized again, but for the moment the evening was theirs. There was no emergency or alert to be answered. No lone mutants or super-villains stood out to challenge them. The park was theirs as Tony’s scan of the area showed that they were alone and quite safe.

Steve rested his arm across Tony’s armor-clad shoulders, “I’m still hungry.”

Tony patted his knee. “Me too. What say we go down to the docks and see what we can catch?”

“The last time I went fishing was at Camp David. Why the docks?”

“There’s a ship or two that’s due to arrive tonight with crew complements in the hundreds. If all goes well, the buffet will open at seven. So that gives us a few hours kill, as it were. What do you say to scouting out that building over there? Last night I thought I detected some heat signatures on the twenty-fifth and thirty-third floors.”

Steve jumped up, “I’m game. Drop me off on the ground floor, you come down from the roof and we’ll meet in the middle.”

“Excellent tactics as always, Colonel.” Tony stood up and extended his arm. “Hop on and we will flawlessly execute your plan.”

Steve wrapped his arm around Tony as Tony hugged him close and they took to the air. “You know what I can’t figure out, Tony?”

“I told you -- I didn’t bite you. Hank thinks our saliva just needs to contact the mucus membranes of a new host in order to effect the change.”

“So if I hadn’t let you kiss me, I’d probably still be normal.”

“Steve, you were never normal. By tomorrow at this time everyone will be back together. There are still a few odds and ends here and there that we need to neutralize. I don’t like things getting in the way of my meals.”

_Fin._


End file.
